Ragged
by Dr FooFoo
Summary: Flack just wants to help Danny feel... [FlackDanny]


**Title:** Ragged  
**Author:** Dr FooFoo  
** Fandom:** CSI:NY  
** Pairing:** Flack/Danny  
** Rating:** R  
**Warnings:** friends with benefits :o  
** Feedback:** Review or e-mail (in profile)  
** Notes:** Um. This is kind of random. I'm sorry if you don't really follow what's going on. I kind of don't, either... I like it, though. Probably more than mos tof my other fics.

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The thing about working with NYPD was that everyone got really lonely really fast. The city was full of people -- too many people, honestly -- and yet everyone at the department went home feeling like they were the only person left in the world. It was probably all the death and tragedy that went with the territory of working homicide. At least twenty people got killed every day in New York, mostly from shootouts in the seedy parts of town, and the silence of the morgue was like standing on the edge of the earth, alone.

Flack knew that, which was probably why he wasn't surprised when Danny called and asked him if he wanted to hang out -- order a pizza or something; Danny had a craving, apparently, and Flack figured he probably didn't have anything better to do, so he drove over to Danny's place on 57th and ducked past the 80-something lady waiting in the lobby with a bunch of shopping bags.

Danny answered the door a little too quickly when Flack knocked; he figured he was just jumpy -- they'd had a rough day and a tough case, and suddenly Flack was glad he'd grabbed a few bottles of rum before he left. Sometimes guys like Danny just needed to unwind, and Flack had been on that end of things too many times to think pizza was the only thing Danny was jonesing for.

"Hey..." Flack nodded to him and held out the paper bag. Danny's face lit up. "I brought you something."

Danny took the alcohol and disappeared into the living room. Flack followed after hip-checking the door shut and kicking off his boots, and Danny was already chugging the rum when Flack sat down next to him on the couch. He looked... ragged, almost, like he'd seen way too much death, and really, Flack supposed, he had. It was just kind of sad, and when Danny pulled out a cigarette and brought it to his lips, Flack realised he was staring.

Danny was staring right back, though, as he flicked his lighter and exhaled smoky breath. They sat like that for who knew how long -- Flack on one end of the couch and Danny in the middle, clinging to the bottle and sucking on his cigarette like it was feeding him life instead of the opposite.

When Flack finally leaned over and kissed him, Danny didn't even move. He just closed his eyes and opened up his mouth, and he tasted like a unique mix of booze and nicotine and New York. Flack chased the flavour until he was practically on Danny's lap, one hand on the back of his neck, and Danny was still holding the bottle in his right hand.

Flack shifted and Danny immediately dragged again and mumbled Flack's name -- just a single, muttered "Don..." and nothing else. Like he was reminding himself of his company, and for the first time that night, Flack actually _looked_ at him. He looked sad -- not in the someone-just-died way. More pathetic than that, and he had dark circles under his eyes like he'd stayed awake for the past three days. Flack didn't really have any reason to think he hadn't, and he leaned back on his knees, sinking into the couch.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, and Danny looked at him, regarding like he was trying to think but couldn't quite find the words he wanted. He sat silently until he had smoked the rest of his cigarette, then smushed it in an ashtray on the sidetable. Flack watched every motion -- every gesture and every twitch, and Danny stretched and groaned.

"Nah... I'm good." Danny moved across the couch like a cat and washed over Flack like rain, consuming him. Flack stretched out on the couch under Danny, sighing softly, and wondered if Danny ever opened up to anyone. Sometimes he figured Danny couldn't even hold a conversation with his own family members without closing up and hiding inside himself. It seemed like a flaw, but Flack knew he just wasn't used to it.

Then Danny's lips were on his, and Flack stopped thinking about why Danny was such a recluse. All he could do, he knew, was just try and get whatever he could out of Danny and help him _feel_ as much as possible. It was the least he could do, anyway, especially with Danny's shirt riding up his stomach and his mouth on Flack's neck, and Flack couldn't help thinking how quick Danny had been this time. Usually they spent at least half an hour drinking or talking about nothing. But then, it didn't really matter, as long as both of them got what they wanted.

Flack felt Danny's hips start to roll against his -- a desperate, sensual circle -- and he didn't really want to, but he found himself arching up into him, pressing against Danny's warm body. It was just so _good_, even if Flack wouldn't admit it to anyone at work, and sometimes he thought that Danny's secrecy made it better; mysterious somehow. That was how he always thought of Danny, anyway -- secretive and mysterious -- and he arched up again. Hoped to dispel some of that secrecy and maybe get Danny to show some emotion once in a while.

There was no music playing, but Danny was grinding with a definite rhythm. Flack guessed he was probably rocking out to something Italian in his head, or maybe he'd forgotten all about Flack and was thinking about the case from this afternoon and just moving for the sake of moving. He had a kind of spaced out look on his face, anyway, and his eyes were sort of glazed over as he stared at a spot above Flack's left shoulder. It pained Flack to see him like that -- all caught up in something and unable to shake it, so he made a soft noise and Danny snapped out of it. Seemed to remember something, and leaned down to press a light kiss to the side of Flack's mouth.

Flack took the opportunity and ran with it; gripped the back of Danny's head with one hand to keep him from escaping, and shoved his tongue in his mouth. And maybe he was wrong about Danny's mind being on other things, because he sure as hell kissed back. More aggressive and sloppy than Flack remembered, but he wasn't about to complain. Especially with Danny's circles getting faster and faster, until Flack could barely think.

And then Danny stilled suddenly, mouth hanging open, and eyes closed, and Flack thought something was wrong until Danny tried to laugh and it came out a moan, like he'd triumphed over something he'd been trying to do for ages. He shoved his face against Flack's neck and panted softly, not moving, and Flack almost said something about not stopping, but caught himself.

After a few minutes, Danny sat up and glanced down at his jeans. A dark, wet spot was spread out across the crotch of his jeans and he licked his lips and climbed off Flack and the couch and vanished into the other room. Flack watched the door for a long time, then sat up and sighed a little. He figured Danny had probably gone to bed, so he stood up and put on his shoes and left.

As he got in his car, Flack remembered the painful bulge in his jeans, and winced. He was tempted to head back upstairs and wake Danny up so he could finish what he'd started, but he shook the thought off. He'd gone over to Danny's apartment for _Danny's_ sake, not for his own, and besides...

He could finish at home.


End file.
